Calamitas: Of Misfortune
by CitySleep
Summary: One would be wise to ignore the beast, lest it notices you. [TomxGinny]
1. Chapter 1: A great fall

_**Every new beginning comes from some other beginning's end.**_

Ginny's footsteps echoed in the deserted corridors of what had once been the Ministry of Magic and was now nothing more than a relic of the past.

She turned to Hermione. The older girl was observing her surroundings with a grim expression that mirrored Ginny's own feelings.

"It's so uncomfortable." Hermione whispered. "I miss fighting, at least then we'd known what to expect. This is just …" She gestured vaguely as if trying to explain what the room was.

Ginny hummed in response. She knew what Hermione was trying to say. At least when you were facing down Death Eaters, you knew it was going to be adrenaline and curses and not having a minute to think because if you stopped for just _half_ a second too long you were dead. This odd, post-apocalyptic hell that they'd been dipped into these past few months was too quiet.

It still felt so surreal.

When Harry had leaped out of Hagrid's arms at the battle of Hogwarts, somehow miraculously alive, the Light had been lulled into a false sense of security. After all, Harry had come back from the dead. Harry had been prophesied to rise up and kill the Dark Lord. And he did- Tom Riddle died at Harry Potter's wand, as he was supposed to.

What no one expected, however, was for Harry Potter to be hit by a stray killing curse.

Ginny wished it had ended then. That everyone had given up and gone home, holed up with their defeats gnawing at their hearts. Instead, the war dragged on and on and on, until it seemed that there had never been anything before or after the battle, that this simply _was_ how it had always been. Both sides took heavy losses. How could they still call it a war when it was barely _alive_ anymore, wasn't the loud shriek of _avada_ as you charged at your enemy, but rather the quiet whisper of _crucio_.

Ginny Weasley, born last of seven, now the youngest of three.

And that was why she was here. Because she could not, _would_ not lose another one.

Theodore Nott, Death Eater deserter and convert to the Light, spy extraordinaire, had been missing for two weeks.

"Unfortunately, Mr. Nott is in possession of information that we absolutely cannot allow to fall into the wrong hands." Shacklebolt had told Ginny and Hermione gravely. Ginny had wanted to snap that the fact that her friend might be dead was also _quite_ unfortunate, but she'd held her tongue and let the man finish. "Therefore, I must ask you to go on a mission to retrieve Theodore Nott safely, and if that should fail…"

The implication hung thickly between the three of them.

Now Hermione and Ginny were back in the Department of Mysteries, thankfully deserted if not worse for the wear. They were in a room that might once have been beautiful. Elaborate gold trimmings transfigured and danced on the pale blue walls, lazily morphing into different runes. It would have felt welcoming and cheerful were it not for the massive sections of the wall that had been blown out. The missing spaces between the walls were occupied by a vast _nothingness_ , a void that seemed to stretch on for infinity. Whispers licked at the debris, a thousands' voices murmur that melted into an unintelligible buzz that set Ginny's hair on end.

"He's not here. He would have left a trail for us." Hermione announced, ever the pragmatic. She wanted to get out of this awful building.

Ginny ignored her. She wasn't leaving until she found some part of Theo, even if that meant his mangled corpse. If Kingsley said Theo had been sent here, that meant he was here- or had been here at some point. The boy wasn't stupid, he left metaphorical bread crumbs everywhere he went. There'd been enough disappearances lately.

"Ginny?" Hermione asked in a forceful tone that suggested she'd already tried to grab the redhead's attention several times.

"Hm?"

"We should try another floor." Her tone was soft, hesitant. As if Ginny might break. "If they caught… if he's not here, we might find, um, traces of him somewhere else."

Ginny nodded, lump in her throat. "Go ahead, I'll be right behind you. I just want to look around one more time."

It was perhaps a testament to just how much the last year had hardened them that Hermione didn't argue, simply nodded and walked away. Ginny tried to focus on the buzzing, the murmurs rising and falling around her.

They seemed to be coming from the void.

Of course. It just had to be spectacularly creepy.

Experimentally, she moved closer to the blown out wall. The whispers became louder.

Acting on instinct, she took a deep breath and steadied herself against the bricks, clutching tightly at the wall. With her free hand, she tentatively reached out into the dark. It felt cold, and somehow a bit wet, like the inside of a cave. She thought she heard her name, lost somewhere in the increasingly loud cacophony of voices. She thought she heard Theo.

Spurred on, she thrust the rest of her arm into the darkness, swallowing her fear as she watched everything past her elbow disappear into nothingness. Her hand came in contact with something solid. Fear and bile rose in her stomach, but she clutched the mass and pulled it forward.

Ginny blinked. In her hand, seemingly at the edge of the void, was an object that looked very familiar. A sense of dread filled her as she recognized object. It was a diary.

She turned it over, heart beating rapidly.

It was _the_ diary. Not as she'd last seen it, in Dumbledore's office, tattered and defiled by basilisk venom. No, this was the diary as it'd been hers, freshly pressed and pulsating with something _else_ -

Whatever fear had been gathering inside of her lurched violently as the wall she'd been leaning on crumbled.

It was all she could do to clutch the diary to her heart as she fell forwards into terrifying emptiness.

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 **Important A/N: This is a rewrite! I was working on this forever ago and I hated what it morphed into. Apologies to all of those who followed this before. Also, this is AU, so you'll prob notice a lot of changes with cannon past, especially regarding ww2 and Riddle's timeline.**


	2. Chapter 2: Offensus, encounters

**_Hope is the pillar that holds up the world. Hope is the dream of a waking man._**

When Ginny was six she'd fallen into a lake. She'd felt her heart stutter as she'd tripped forward into the dark water, and then her lungs had filled with ice cold water, each frantic breath dragging her further and further towards the bottom.

That was how she felt now, except she knew Fred wouldn't grab her collar and shake her out like a wet kitten. Instead, she watched the darkness stretch endlessly around her, each panicked inhale completely soundless to her ears.

If this was death, no wonder Voldemort had been so hellbent on avoiding it.

It was so dark Ginny couldn't tell if her eyes were open or closed. It felt like hours had passed. I felt like seconds had passed. She wanted to scream, but the void swallowed her voice. She couldn't feel her tongue, but her teeth felt too large for her mouth, too present. She pressed her palms to her eyes-

Then, so abruptly that Ginny wondered if she'd ascended into some sort of Muggle paradise, white light blinded her. Before she'd had a chance to adjust to her surroundings Ginny felt a wand being jabbed into her throat.

"What," A deep, rumbling voice hissed, "-in Merlin's name are you doing here?"

Her vision came back into focus and she breathed in a large, shuddering breath. An ancient man was peering down his long, crooked nose at Ginny. Tuffs of grey hair erupted wildly from his nostrils. His blue eyes were nearly obscured by his equally unruly eyebrows. If it weren't for the elegantly embroidered "U" branding him an Unspeakable, Ginny would have thought she'd somehow hallucinated her great uncle Billius.

Sprawled on the floor, she shot a furtive glance around the room. It didn't look anything like the ruins she'd entered with Hermione just hours ( _minutes? days_?) previously. This one held rows upon rows of shelves containing glowing bulbs. One, she noticed, had a miniature solar system lazily cycling through the formation and implosion of its universe. It was so normal, so _pretty_ compared to what had become her reality that she wanted to cry. She was dismayed to find that she _was_ crying, letting out enormous wet hiccups as snot and tears ran uncontrollably down her face.

The wizard offered a hand and pulled her upright into a sitting position.

"It's all right lassie," He patted her back reassuringly, all trace of menace gone. Apparently, a crying female was not a threat. Ginny wasn't sure if she should be relieved or offended. Wisely, she decided the first, and if her sobs became a bit more hysterical, her sniffles more exaggerated, he didn't seem to notice.

"Let's get you back to Hogwarts, miss, I'm sure Dumbledore can sort this out."

* * *

Ginny shifted on the plush chair, desperately uncomfortable despite the abundance of cushions under her rump. The wizard in front of her was young. Too young. She opened her mouth, thought better of it, and closed it again.

"The feeling is reciprocated, my dear." Dumbledore- or at least this young, auburn-haired version of Dumbledore said good-naturedly. Ginny blinked several times. "I do admit having never been an Unspeakable myself, to be called upon was quite a shock." Dumbledore continued jovially, his tone indicating that he found the whole situation entirely amusing. Ginny tried not to grimace. "However, this has been quite a peculiar month, and some say I am a peculiar man," At this he gave her an apologetic look, "So nevertheless I am absolutely delighted to welcome you into Hogwarts, Miss…?"

"Weasley." Ginny said stiffly. She'd always been a tad wary of the way Dumbledore seemed to absorb any lost youngster from a questionable background. She hadn't exactly lied to the Unspeakable or to Dumbledore- just spun a vague tale that relied on her thin knowledge of an era where time turner use ran rampant and it was not uncommon for witches and wizards to find themselves stranded in in the wrong time.

"Are you sure there's not something else you'd like to tell me, Miss Weasley?" The look he gave her over his half-moon spectacles heavily implied that he knew she was hiding something from him. Ginny swallowed thickly and shook her head.

He held her gaze for a second and she felt the telltale buzzing building up inside her head before she firmly fixed her eyes on the floor in front of her and chanted the first verse of God Rest Ye, Merry Hippogriffs.

Dumbledore cleared his throat. "Very well then. In that case, may I suggest using a different name during your stay here? We've just had a Weasley graduate-"

"Prewett." She whispered shakily. "My mum- my mother's maiden name."

"Prewett! Excellent! We happen to have a young Prewett currently attending Hogwarts, I'm sure he'll be delighted to welcome you into his home." Dumbledore's face lit up as if Christmas had come early, though there was a hint of satisfaction lurking there, as if Ginny had just confirmed something he'd been guessing at. She narrowed her eyes at him.

"As it happens," the professor continued, completely unaware, "A distant, elderly Prewett cousin has recently passed on. The only stipulation on her will were that the contents be passed on to a female relative. Therefore, legally speaking, I believe her belongings and vaults fall to you."

Ginny, unsure of what to respond, said nothing.

"Of course, I took it upon myself to obliviate the Unspeakable from the ministry."

Ginny tried not to look too perturbed at Dumbledore's casual admission. After all, this was the man who'd taken down Grindelwald ( _and plotted with him_ , _and most probably bedded him too_ a piece of her mind whispered- but Ginny pushed it aside).

Finally, Ginny said, "Sir, I don't mean to be rude, but don't you need, well, anything from me? You don't know where I am, where I come from, or why I'm here-"

Dumbledore held up a hand to stop her. Ginny fell quiet.

"Time travel is a tricky thing. The less I know, Miss Weasley- or should I say, Miss Prewett- the better. I cannot claim to be entirely surprised by your appearance here." Ginny's stomach lurched. "I believe you are familiar with a Mr. Nott?"

* * *

 _"Zabini, this time? Really?!" Ron yelled, his face turning a blotchy red. "Harry dies and you decide to take half of Slytherin to bed with you? What the bloody hell is wrong with you?!"_

 _"SHUT UP!" She screeched, ignoring the guilt, ignoring the pain that flared inside of her at the mention of Harry. "You don't know shite, Ronald-"_

 _"I know that Harry would be ashamed if he knew what-"_

 _Ginny ran out of the room before he could finish, slamming the door behind her._

 _He wouldn't know._

 _Harry would never know. Because he was dead._

 _Dead dead dead_ _ **dead dead dead dead dead**_ _-_

 _"That sounded rough." A gravelly voice said gently. Ginny looked up to find Theodore Nott leaning back on the kitchen counter, looking aristocratic and entirely out of place in the Burrow._

 _Despite that Theodore had been living at the Burrow for the better part of five months, he'd completely avoided Ginny. It suited her just fine anyways- having him wandering around her childhood home was odd enough, regardless of his new loyalties._

 _"It's none of your business." She snapped. His shirt was too damn white. It was blindingly bright, out of place in the Burrow. Had he found the time, amongst the chaos, to bleach his clothing? Did it help him to cling to his absurd pureblood customs, always dressed as if he were heading to some poncy dinner? Ginny felt the odd urge to wipe her hands on the fine material, to watch it wrinkle and stain under her sooty fingers._

 _"Never said it was. I was just offering a drink." Nott gestured at the bottle of firewhisky beside him, eyeing her. Probably trying to keep her dirty hands off of him. "Would you care for a glass?"_

 _She did, and he poured her a generous portion. Together they migrated towards the living room, where they proceeded to get thoroughly pissed._

" _You've got great whisky." She slurred from her position on the floor. When had she ended up down there? Oh well. "Where do you find this stuff?"_

 _Theodore was trying, and failing, to sit on a levitating cushion._

" _Money, Weasley. You think I can buy us illegal portkeys but not decent booze?" He snorted disdainfully._

 _She rolled over onto her stomach and eyed him. "Rich arsehole."_

" _Scarlet woman." He shot back. A giggle escaped her._

" _Is that why you're sharing your oh-so-expensive booze with me, pretty rich boy?" She batted her eyelashes. "Trying to get me into bed?"_

 _Theodore sighed. "Thought you were smarter than that."_

 _Ginny grinned. "I am. Just wanted to see if you were."_

* * *

"Theodore?" Her voice sounded lost to her own ears. Her heart stuttered in her throat, and to her utter mortification, she was crying for the second time that day.

Dumbledore clasped his hands and ignored her outburst. "He arrived last week."


	3. Chapter 3: Caveo, take care

****

****_**Give a man a fish, you feed him for a day. Give a man a poisoned fish, you feed him for the rest of his life.**_

Ginny thought her nose should have grown three sizes considering the sheer amount of lies she'd told in the last few hours. The green and silver tie sitting at her throat reminded her of just how successful she'd been. Afterall, a certain amount of self-preservation told her that Theo would rather die than end up in any other house, and she'd rather infiltrate a house of snakes than be separated from him in this or any other era.

If the polished trophies sitting behind Dippet had told her anything, she'd somehow ended up in the same decade as Tom Riddle, probably thanks to that blasted diary of his (which had, she noted, not followed her through her bizarre leap through time). Someone in the afterworld really had it in for her- probably that Lestrange bitch.

Clinically, she studied her own feelings of detachment to the whole situation. Somewhere, she could hear Hermione's voice rattling off something about trauma and the brain's numbing reaction to preserve oneself.

Great, so she was just so traumatized that she'd essentially turned into a zombie. Lovely.

Ginny shook off the thought. Weasley women were made stronger than this. What would Molly do? Ginny ground her teeth. At the very least, she could make the best of this situation. She knew nearly everything about Riddle- that had to give her some sort of advantage? The first thing she could do was kill that blasted snake of his- then kill him. She'd end up in Azkaban, but then Theo could hunt down Riddle's stupid horcruxes and destroy him for good. Right. Easy.

Somewhat bolstered by her plan, Ginny stepped into the Great Hall and made her way to the Slytherin table. Leave it to Dumbledore to send a student straight to lunch after being violently thrown back in time, Ginny snorted to herself.

She sat herself next to the first head of black hair that she saw, trying to look inconspicuous. She wanted to catch Theo's attention before anyone's elses so that she could follow his lead. Ginny might have been a great liar, but Theodore spoke like he'd been born on a stage.

To her delight, the youngest Nott glanced at her, his face betraying absolutely no surprise.

"So you made it." He said tonelessly. He spooned some soup into his mouth before meeting her eyes, as if he couldn't be bothered to pause his lunch to greet her.

"You sound disappointed." Ginny said dryly. It was taking every ounce of her self-control not to throw herself into his arms.

You're alive. She wanted to yell. You're alive you're alive you're _alive_.

To occupy her hands, she made a grab for a dinner roll and froze immediately.

To her absolute horror, Tom Riddle sat across from her.

The Tom Riddle of her dreams was tones of grey, with a murky quality she always associated with dirty water. This Riddle was so vivid it almost hurt to look at him. Every angle felt sharp, aggressive, from the planes of his cheeks to the bridge of his nose. And worse, infinitely worse, was the recognition that came as she took in his features. She knew those lips, those lips that had whispered reassurances as he took the life from her very soul. The hands that had guided hers, held them as she slit throats and wrote words in blood. Eyes that, mercifully, did not hold a flicker of recognition- but saw that hers did. They flicked to and from her face with all the precision of a surgeon- and god, did Ginny ever feel dissected.

But she also felt anger.

There was fear too, simmering beneath the surface, but it was nothing compared to the waves of anger that washed through her veins. She felt as if she might combust, leaving her ashes to wash over him so he could taste her agony.

Ginny had never wanted to kill someone. She was sure some of her actions in the past year had resulted in the death of a few, but she'd never had the urge to directly point her wand at someone's beating heart and utter the six syllables that would render it silent. Even when she'd come close, she'd thought of Harry and his goodness and she'd felt calm, quiet, anchored in the knowledge that no matter what, they could not take this away from her.

She didn't just want to kill Riddle.

She wanted to tear out his heart with her bare hands.

And she hated him even more for making her feel this way.

"Roll?" Said Riddle kindly, extending the basket towards her. His eyes were still now, eyebrows drawn together to express vague confusion at her stilled stance.

"Thank you." Ginny was proud that her voice didn't shake. "Head boy, correct? Dumbledore mentioned you."

Riddle frowned, irritation flashing across his face before he smiled sweetly at her.

"Yes. I'm Riddle. You must be Theodore's cousin. I'm terribly sorry to hear of your grandmother's passing, that must have been very difficult on you."

"Riddle?" She couldn't help herself. "How peculiar. But then again, I knew a girl named _Nymphadora_. Do you have a surname?"

Riddle's jaw ticked.

"She was old, we were both expecting it." Theo cut in gracefully. "Now we're proper orphans. Life goes on"

"That is still terrible." A tall blonde girl with a thick french accent sniffed. She was sitting opposite Theodore, beside Riddle. She was coldly beautiful, made of the sort of stiff grace that wouldn't fade with age. Despite her heavy French accent, Ginny recognized the shockingly blonde hair, something she'd only ever associated with the Malfoy family.

"I am Celeste D'Auvignon, and this is my fiancé, Elias Zabini." She nodded to her equally gorgeous counterpart, who gave Ginny a short nod. He had one hand snaked possessively around Celeste's waist. "And this," Celeste continued, pointing a little further down, "is my little sister, Clemence, and her fiancé Abraxas Malfoy."

The younger blonde girl smiled shyly at Ginny. While her sister's blonde hair hung as straight and rigid as her posture, Clemence's hair was wild and wavy and her eyes were incredibly soft and timid. Something in Ginny's heart ached as she was reminded of a young Luna. The man sitting next to her, however, looked like a carbon copy of his future grandson. The only differences Ginny could see were in the hair and the build, the former being a sandier blonde and the later a wider, more muscular frame.

Ginny smiled at Clemence and nodded at the rest of the group.

"If you need anything, just ask me, the boys here are useless." Celeste said, primly buttering a roll before depositing it onto Zabini's plate. She then reached over and began cutting the roast into bite-sized pieces. Ginny tried not to grimace and glanced up at Zabini, who looked for everything in the world like an overgrown cat laying out in the sun, too lazy and content to be bothered with anything.

"Well," She amended, "Except for Tom, of course." Then, to Ginny's absolute horror, Celeste began feeding Zabini as if he were some sort of wildly overgrown baby. Ginny tried desperately not to think of her last encounter with Blaise.

"Right." Ginny said brightly, trying to look away from the bizarre scene unfolding in front of her whilst also avoiding meeting Riddle's gaze. She tossed the roll between her hands, the weight of it reminding her of a toy snitch.

"It's funny," Abraxas drawled from down the table, "I've never heard of any of the Prewett's having children our age."

Ginny stiffened, but Theodore jumped in. "Our grandmother was very cautious, especially given our family history. We've been targeted so heavily by Grindelwald already…" He schooled his expression into one of delicate grief.

"Of course." The younger blonde sister sitting by Abraxas said empathetically. Then, less kindly, she smacked Abraxas' arm. "You are so rude!"

The table laughed, and the tension bled out of the teenagers easily. It was only Riddle, Ginny noticed, who eyed Theo with a speculative glint in his eye. Seeing her opportunity, she nudged Theodore and gestured with her chin towards the main doors. He nodded imperceptibly and they both stood to leave.

"Miss Prewett?" Riddle spoke gently before Ginny had a chance to flee.

 _It's easy Ginny, look, mummy will show you. If you look under the bed, the monsters will know that you're not afraid of them. Then they will go away. You try now, go on._

She raised her eyes slowly, deliberately. A challenge. "Yes ?"

His face was the picture of politeness, detached concern colored with just a hint of pity. "Let me accompany you to your next class once you're done _catching up_ with your cousin. I'll meet you outside the common room at quarter to."

Despite the honey-sweet tone, Ginny knew this wasn't a request. She smiled back mockingly, showing her teeth.

"I'd be _delighted_."


	4. Chapter 4: Hactenus, she continues

**_Men in general are quick to believe that which they wish to be true._**

This is what she liked about Theo, Ginny thought as she pressed her cheek against the pillow, glancing up at him through her hair. You could be thrown back in time, tell him all about your dastardly plans to kill a fellow student and all he would do is hum appreciatively.

They lay tangled together like children, something they'd become accustomed to in the past few months. It wasn't cuddling, but limbs flung across the entirety of the bed, elbow squashed up beside each other's ribs or feet thrown over each other. An innocent, reassuring touch, as if to make sure that the other was truly there. He told her of how he'd been thrown backwards through time like herself, how he'd spent a few weeks wandering around Germany, witness to some muggle hell unfolding through history before being rescued by a squib who'd seen him attempt to use wandless magic. She'd contacted Dumbledore and he'd been quietly slipped into Hogwarts, lying about his age to let him enter seventh year.

Ginny was starting to suspect that Dumbledore liked to keep anything odd close to him.

"I knew Granger or yourself would come looking for me, so I fibbed my way into becoming a Prewett, since I knew you'd revert to your mother's name and Granger's not thick enough to use her own. Then it was just a matter of keeping the details hazy enough for us to figure them out together."

It was Ginny's turn to hum in appreciation at his quick with. Theo was nothing if not resourceful.

Theirs was an odd relationship.

Hermione had found it unhealthy, as she'd voiced many times. _Co-dependant_ was the word she'd used. It wasn't doing either of them any favours to rely on each other this way without actually sorting through their issues. True, Ginny thought, but Hermione also woke up every night screaming bloody murder, so she wasn't exactly convinced that Hermione had any right to be doling out any sort of mental health advice.

"You can't kill him right away." Theo whispered, interrupting her train of thought. "We don't know how long we're going to be here. We don't know what the consequences are. This needs to be meticulous."

He turned his blue eyes to her, reading her distasteful expression passively. "Don't let your emotions get the best of you Weasley. That will lead to mistakes."

The unspoken "like last time" hung heavily in the air between them and Ginny felt her throat tighten uncomfortably. He was right, of course. She could be too careless.

 _You burn like fiendfyre girl, out of control._

 _Laughter, laughter though blood dripped from the corner of her mouth onto the stone floor-taunting, forever taunting, even as Bellatrix shuddered from the after effects of the Cruciatus, even as Ginny turned and ran, ran as far as she could, away from the mocking laugh that followed her-_

 _Running even though battle raged around her, even as she heard Dean scream her name, feeling him_ _**push**_ _into her_

 _How she'd gagged as the dark witch had laughed, giggled maniacally at the redhead's horror, how in her moment of shame at her own weakness she'd briefly turned her eyes away, just a for a second, a moment to shut out the awfulness of what was happening before her- to her-and Bellatrix had used that moment to shoot an a curse at her._

 _It would have crushed her head if Dean hadn't pushed her out of the way._

 _Instead it crushed his._

"Don't." Theo murmured, not unkindly. "Get out of wherever you are and stay with me. You're meeting Riddle in ten."

xxx

* * *

Xxx

Ginny was unnerved by the attention Riddle paid her. He had a way of looking directly at her when she spoke, giving her his undivided attention. Unlike most people, he didn't glance away once eye contact became too prolonged, or let his eyes wander casually around her face. They stayed determinedly fixed on hers, even when she answered his pleasant inquiries with the dullest replies.

She knew this trick. It had worked on her when she was eleven, as she assumed it still worked on most of their peers at this age. Everyone wants to feel special, heard, interesting. Riddle focused his attention so precisely on his victims that they couldn't help but feel flattered. He smiled careful, half-smiles- a full grin would be too open to interpretation.

He used his height to his advantage as well, looming over her as they walked. Ginny had assumed that he'd seemed taller in her memories because she'd been fairly short at eleven, and the mind had a way of exaggerating monsters.

Yet she barely reached his chest, and he seemed to sense how uncomfortable that made her as he continuously found ways to angle himself towards her in a vaguely domineering way as they walked through the corridors. She countered by clenching her jaw and steeling herself resolutely forward, not budging an inch in his direction.

He didn't believe a word she was saying, Ginny was sure of it. It was betrayed every time Riddle asked a new question, each a bit quicker and more forceful than the last. He stayed the picture of politeness all the while, offering to carry her books and insisting at her refusal.

"I'm sorry." He said abruptly, pausing mid-stride and turning his whole body towards her. He leaned his palm into the stone wall behind her, effectively caging her between it and himself in a rehearsed move. Ginny's body tensed as he casually crossed his foot behind the other and cocked his head to the side, a contrite expression resting on his features. "I seem to have said something to offend you."

"Why would you think that?" Ginny said, trying and failing to keep the venom out of her tone. The space between them was too small, too tight, her windpipe had closed and the air seemed to burn between her lungs. He'd kept enough of a distance between them that anyone looking in their direction would only see two students engaged a friendly, if maybe flirtatious chat, but Ginny could count his ridiculously long lashes one by one.

She wanted to rip them out and watch his eyes cry blood.

"You seem to be upset with me, despite us having just met. Unless we've met before? Have I slighted you in some way?" He swallowed heavily, a mimicry of a sad look crossing his face. He was almost charming, walking the line between looking hurt and cautious as he gazed at her through icy grey eyes. Ginny was reminded just then of how a crazy, serpentine Voldemort had risen to power in the first place. She was reminded of how the honeyed words of a boy had lured a young girl into welcoming her own death, into staring at her blood soaked hands with nothing but wonderment, admiration, nothing but wide brown eyes searching his grey ones for approval and sticky sweet words of praise.

But the little girl had died in the chamber, and in her place Ginny saw the glint of irritation lurking beneath the soft, upset expression.

"I assure you, you've done nothing to upset me, it's just that I'm rather shy and you're very nosy." Ginny said rudely, sounding tart even to her own ears.

He looked at her oddly then, his eyes narrowing. They regarded each other in cool silence, Ginny thrusting her chin out in defiance as he schooled his features into a blank slate, his wavy black hair falling wildly around his face as if it had reacted to their prickly exchange.

In a way, Ginny had always been reassured by how horrifying Voldemort looked. It was easier to replace her version of Tom Riddle with the ugly, snake-like creature of nightmares, to associate the devil with something that was as loathsome on the outside as it was on the inside.

Because her Tom, this Riddle, they were undeniably beautiful. His handsomeness, the clash of what she knew lay in his soul with the angelic Botticellian features grated on her nerves like nails on a chalkboard. She could almost feel the dark magic pulsing through him, seeping through his pores and polluting the air around them.

"I apologize." He said tonelessly, suddenly pulling away from her and continuing to walk. Ginny kept her distance as she followed him. "I forget that young women raised at home are not so liberal as the company I've grown used to here at Hogwarts."

Her eyes snapped up to his. He had his head inclined towards her, eyeing her sideways and observing her like an animal at a zoo, gauging her reaction.

" _Be predictable." Moody growled at them. Ginny glanced around the room, at the young adults preparing for the long battle. "Don't be interesting, don't be witty, lose their interest. We're not sending you bouncing around France for a bleedin' fancy holiday, yer understand? Get the information, even if ya have to get on yer knees to do it. Then bore them until they lose interest and_ _ **get out**_ _."_

She smiled blandly at him. "I accept your apology. I'm sure we'll get to know each other better, seeing as we have several classes together, what with us _being in the same year_ and all."

" _Miss Weasley, has it ever occurred to you that being a sarcastic little bint isn't the best way to gain someone's confidence?" Moody barked._

Riddle smiled back opaquely, ignoring her snark.

"Of course." He said generously. Then- "It seems we've reached our destination."

Ginny nearly jumped. She hadn't noticed how far they'd walked. Students were filtering into the Charm's classroom.

"Until next time, Prewett." He turned and left, and it was only when he disappeared around the corner that she let herself exhale a breath she hadn't known she was holding.


	5. Chapter 5: Obnoxius, a liability

The soul becomes dyed with the color of its thoughts.

Everything would have been fine, Ginny mused later, if she hadn't attended Defense Against the Dark Arts on Friday.

She'd managed to not arouse any suspicions and keep her head down for most of the week, making herself mostly bland and uninteresting. She'd befriended the two French girls and even gotten on Abraxas Malfoy's good side by discussing Quidditch strategies with him over breakfast. Theo, on the other hand, busied himself by charming everyone he came in contact with, rivaling Riddle himself in his quest to be unequivocally appealing.

Even in the 1940's, Hogwarts was apparently still set on hiring the nuttiest wizards they could find for the job. Professor Whitehorn looked like he'd lived through several wars and then some. He stalked around the classroom, eyeing them one by one, before spitting directly on the ground.

Ginny and Theodore stared, incredulous. No one else seemed fazed. She looked over at Celeste, who was pointedly examining her manicure. Theodore looked a the shiny glob of spit on the ground, then back at her, a confused, horrified look on his face.

"Is he mad?" He hissed to Celeste, who was sitting on his other side.

"One of your parents," The man rasped, "Actually had the nerve to owl Dippet about the way I run this class."

He stopped in front of a Gryffindor boy that could have been related to Neville Longbottom. The boy trembled.

"Now, I won't say WHO I think did this," He said, looking almost directly to not-Neville and narrowing his eyes. "But I will tell you that this class is fully approved by the ministry. AS IT SHOULD BE!"

The class startled.

Whitehorn spun around and flicked his wand. "GRINDELWALD" spelled itself out on the board.

"No matter what your parents tell you, we are at WAR. You are not sniveling children hiding behind your mother's robes anymore, but potential recruits for the defense of Wizarding Britain. My job is to teach you to fight, not how to read a bloody _textbook_." He sneered the last word with so much emphasis that it probably echoed through the decades, hitting Snape with a wave of inspiration.

"Now, partner up, I want to see your best offensive spells on display- non-verbally for those of you who can manage it." His tone suggested he didn't think it would be a high number. "Whoever can make their partner yield first is excused from today's homework. Those who lose, I expect a three-foot long essay on the defensive strategies currently employed by the Ministry of Magic and MACUSA against Grindelwald's forces."

He waved his wand and the classroom doubled in size. There was a beat of silence, as everyone appreciated his work- "What are you waiting for? Get started!"

Theodore turned to Ginny. "What do you say, cousin? Like the good old times?"

" _Fuck, Theo, I'm so sorry."_

" _You're good." He hissed, ignoring her apology and clutching his profusely bleeding hand. "I mean, you go a little nutty, but you're very good. I'd like to keep training with you." She took his hand in hers and murmured the healing charm to reattach his mostly severed finger, watching the skin stitch itself back into place._

" _I have to be good." She whispered, examining his hand. Except for a faint scar, it looked fine. "I'd be dead if I wasn't."_

They ambled together towards an unoccupied section of the room.

"Absolutely not!" Whitehorn barked at them. "You Prewetts are already several weeks behind. Carrow! Get over here and switch with Miss Prewett."

Algos Carrow dropped his shoulders with relief as he nearly ran from Tom Riddle towards Theodore. Ginny exchanged a panicked glance with Theo before she schooled her expression and made her way towards the head boy.

She nodded curtly and he smiled charmingly back at her. Her heart beat wildly as he eyed her up and down dismissively, pausing on her hand clenched tightly around her wand. His smile grew a tad crueler, and Ginny wondered if he could smell the fear coming off of her.

"BEGIN!" Bellowed Whitehorn.

And just like that, she was back on the battlefield, fighting for her life. Years of strategy and practice took over and she was throwing every curse she knew at the boy in front of her, but he wasn't a boy, he was a _monster_ , the monster who'd whispered in her head and stolen her childhood and destroyed her home and killed Harry-

 _He killed Harry he killed Harry He killed everyone everyone everyone everyone_

And he was in front of her and she could hear her family screaming and the cries of those falling on the battlefield and her body was wonderfully, gloriously alive and she felt sharp and _deadly_ -

She was twisting, spinning out of reach of his spells, spells that felt awkward and clumsy, too controlled compared to what she was used to, too _easy-_

And somehow her casting offensive spell after offensive spell and him blocking the attack had brought them nearly an arm's reach of each other, and she distracted him with something dark that singed his robes before she flipped him on his back and yanked his wand from his hand. In a second she was sitting on his chest, knees weighing down his arms and her wand jammed under his neck, her other hand grasping his collar roughly. They breathed heavily and stared at each other, faces merely inches apart.

"Yield." She spat. He licked his lower lip, not breaking eye contact.

 _Say the words._ Her soul whispered. _End it right here, right now. Just two little words-_

"I SAID YIELD!"

"Now," He whispered, his voice- his _real_ voice- the rich velvety male baritone she remembered- sending shivers up her spine as she felt his breath fan over her face. "It seems that you _do_ know me." He cocked his head, pushing her wand harder into his skin. "You aren't as good of a liar as you think you are, Ginevra."

Riddle's entire posture beneath her had changed. So much lazy power dripped off of him that it threatened to drown Ginny's mind. His eyes, previously glazed over with boredom and annoyance now burned a cold grey. It felt like the skies before a thunderstorm, tumultuous and electric, raking over her with such interest that she felt very naked before him despite her heavy robes. The predatory smirk he gave her held the promise of a chase, of hunting her down and tearing the secrets from her limb by limb until she'd let him suck the marrow from her bones.

She saw her ashen face reflected in his eyes, and she was falling forwards like she'd tripped into a pensieve, swallowed whole by this creature-

Just like that she was no longer staring down at him but _up_ at herself, and she saw her own face contort in confusion above her-

And then it was over, and she jumped up and away from him as if she'd been burned, just as Professor Whitehorn yelled "Miss Prewett, my office this instant!"


	6. Chapter 6: Conscius, sharing knowledge

**_"What you leave behind is not what is engraved in stone monuments, but what is woven into the lives of others."_**

"I'm sorry, _what_?"

Whitehorn sighed heavily.

"Miss Prewett." He lit a muggle cigar, inhaled deeply and leaned forward on his elbows. "You are a very talented young witch. You are also an orphan. Unlike Malfoy or Zabini, you will _not_ find yourself at the receiving end of much attention after graduation, unless you plan to marry into one of these families. I highly suggest you do not, and take my offer instead."

Ginny eyed him in disbelief. This had to be a joke.

"Think about it Prewett." Whitehorn stretched his hands behind his head. "Now get to class. I expect an answer next week."

Ginny nodded and bolted away from Whitehorn's office as fast as she could. The old codger was worse than Moody. She rounded the corner out of the defense classroom and was shoved harshly against the wall.

"What are you _doing_?" Theodore hissed, hands digging into her shoulders.

* * *

 _It had started with Seamus, of all people. He'd been at the house for a few days and she'd crossed him on the way to the loo, pale and shaking and eyes wide as if he was afraid of what he'd see if he let them close._

 _Weren't they all._

 _She took his hand and sat him down on the edge of the tub, rubbed soothing circles on his back and made small hushing noises as his nightmares spilled down his cheeks and onto her thin cotton shirt. She asked questions, gently goading him into letting it all out, and once he was done he looked at her with so much raw pain that she instinctively leaned forward to press her lips against his in comfort, and then it was all hands and teeth and more more more-_

 _When it was done, his head tucked into her shoulder, short shallow breaths warming her neck, she ran her fingers absentmindedly through his hair, realizing that for a minute she had stopped thinking, and by gods it felt good._

 _She started picking them up quickly then, broken boys who passed through the safehouse, boys who she could coax into purging their fears and sins while they lay between her legs, eyes always wide and lost and hungry, and when their heads fell on her breasts and the air was thick with the stench of regret she felt sated for an instant._

 _It wasn't until Blaise Zabini had caught her hand and whispered a muffled "Stay," that she realized that she was hurting them more than she was helping._

 _But she whispered no and pressed a chaste kiss to his forehead, disappearing into the night with his secrets on her skin and the taste of his tears on her tongue._

 _Draco Malfoy had been drinking firewhiskey at three in the morning on her porch when she found him. Once upon a time he may have looked out of place at the Burrow, but no more. The dark circles under his eyes, the greasy hair, the ruffled clothing that didn't fit quite properly- something Molly had thrown at him, probably- the Malfoy scion had fallen._

" _Demons keeping you up?" She quipped, sitting beside him uninvited. He tensed and threw her an irritated glare, though it lacked any real bite._

" _Go away, Weaslette. Let me drink in peace." Despite the words, he didn't shift away from her. She moved closer, a snake making it's way towards it's prey._

" _Does it ever bother you that you never made peace with Harry? I mean, after all the shit you and your father put him through, only to find out he really_ _ **was**_ _our only redemption?"_

 _He inhaled sharply, eyes suddenly burning with rage. Ginny stared back, unmoved, observing. He'd always been thin, so angular and sharp, but it had fit him somehow. Now he looked haunted, something that belonged on a cold metal slab covered with a white sheet. She could see the angry, puckered purple scar that ran from his jaw until it disappeared into his hairline. She wondered what it tasted like._

" _Fuck you." He spat._

" _Would it help?" She asked sincerely, eyeing him curiously, turning her body towards him so he could feel the curve of her breast against his arm, the weight of her hip resting near his thigh. Her heart beat faster as it always did during these games, the thrill of the chase giving her wings, soaring, flying through her._

" _What?!" He blinked wildly, momentarily surprised out of his anger. "Are you bloody mental?"_

 _But he didn't move away._

" _It helps you know." She whispered carefully, her breath disturbing the few overgrown strands of hair around his face. She blinked up at him, alluring, inviting, making sure to keep her face open and soft. "I won't tell if you don't…"_

 _And then, because he wasn't moving, because she could see him try to control his breathing_ , _because she knew she'd won, she began pressing open-mouthed kisses on his jaw, feeling the tension in the muscles, feeling his breathing hitch as she splayed her fingers across his chest-_

He grabbed her waist and twisted her around so she was sitting on his lap, straddling him, fingers bruising her as he shook with something that wasn't quite lust or nerves but something else- fragility- and Ginny sighed as the monster inside of her purred, and she lowered her mouth to his and whispered, "Tell me what hurts."

" _What the fuck do you think you're doing?! He's my friend!" It was Nott's hands that all but threw her off of Malfoy, his face was contorted with a horrible mixture of rage and hurt- and then gentle hands were cradling her face, blue eyes searching hers with worry and disappointment. He sighed. "And so are you. What are you doing?"_

* * *

"I repeat, what are you doing, or what did you do, because I told you to keep a low profile-"

"He offered me a job. Actually, he sort of offered you one too." She shoved his hands roughly away from her. "And get off of me. Seriously, what the fuck, Theodore?"

He ran a hand through his hair. "I'm sorry, but right back at you- what the fuck were you thinking? Are you _trying_ to paint a target on our backs?"

Well, if she hadn't, Whitehorn certainly had sealed the deal. She let out a hysterical giggle at the thought. Was it too much to ask, to not have to spend her _entire_ life fighting for one cause or the other?

"Are you crying?" Theo asked, aghast. She shook her head negatively, even as she felt the tears stream down her cheeks.

"Come here." He pulled her in roughly for a hug, rubbing soothing circles on her back. "You Gryffindors and your emotions."

She punched him in the shoulder.

"Ow! Fuck. How do you punch so hard when you're so tiny?!"

Ginny shrugged. "I think it's all the concentrated rage." She sighed heavily into his chest. "What are we going to do, Theo? He wants us to fight Grindelwald. Said he'd have us working by Christmas."

Theodore let out a bark of incredulous laughter.

"Bugger." He sniffed, composing himself. "This complicates things."

"You don't say."

They stayed wrapped around each other silently for a few moments, Ginny feeling particularly horrible about the mess she'd landed them into. There was also the nagging question of her bizarre experience with Riddle, her body tipping into his for a moment as she looked up at her own face.

"Let's meet in the Room of Requirement tomorrow night," Theo offered. "We'll figure something out then, and I don't think it's safe to talk here." He pointed to his ear and the wall. Ginny nodded. "Until then, stay away from Riddle and keep a low profile."

The rest of the day passed quickly, and Ginny was so anxious to avoid her classmates that she skipped dinner and went straight to bed, drawing the curtains shut around her.

Riddle hadn't approached her in Potions, but she'd felt his eyes following her every movement. It left her feeling paranoid and jumpy. She'd knocked over her entire cauldron, leaving her partner huffing in annoyance. Slughorn had gently chastised her, and Riddle had quickly come to her defence, pointing out that her potion had been near perfect before she'd spilled it, and really, weren't first day nerves excusable?

Slughorn had made some horrific comment about noble Riddle jumping to the pretty girl's defence and winked at both of them. Riddle had shrugged and smiled angelically, white teeth gleaming, as if to say he wouldn't contradict Slughorn but was also too much of a gentleman to confirm. Ginny hadn't been able to keep the look of pure disgust from creeping onto her face. She could have sworn she heard him laugh.

She turned and twisted in her bed, feeling her skin crawl. Years ago, when she'd first been haunted with nightmares of ink and a beautiful boy laughing as the life bled out of her, she'd imagined herself transforming into a bird, flying high and bursting into flames. In her dream, everything around her would catch fire as she burned, and they would go down together.

She'd told Harry about it once. It felt like so long ago now, the two of them huddled under a tree near the Black Lake, sharing stories as his fingers traced the soft skin of her cheek.

"But why do you need to burn too?" Harry had asked, brow furrowed. "Fawkes comes back, right? You could too."

She hadn't been able to answer him.

She awoke feeling feverishly warm, her sheets damp with sweat twisted around her. A tempus charm told her it was nearly four in the morning.

She realized with irritation she wouldn't be able to crawl into Theodore's bed less she want the rumor mill to start spinning wildly, so she opted for a shower instead. She crept out of the dormitory and softly padded her ways to the showers, expecting them to be empty. Instead, she found the statuesque French girls, the one Ginny remembered only due to her bizarre displays of affection with Not-Blaise Zabini, washing her hands vigorously in the sink.

"Are you alright?" Ginny gasped when the girl turned towards her at the sound of the opening door. She was topless, and an enormous gashed ran from her neck to her stomach. Her beautiful face was marred with cuts and bruises.

"Fine." The girl- Celeste- answered curtly. She turned away from Ginny and continued washing her hands. The water a ran rusty red.

"You don't look fine." Ginny pointed out, eyebrows arched in disbelief. "Let me bring you to the infirmary."

It was the blonde's turn to arch an incredulous brow at Ginny. "And pray tell, how do you know where the infirmary is?" At Ginny's silence, she smirked, but her smile fell immediately as she said "You are not the only one at Hogwart's with secrets, Prewett. You did not see me tonight, and I did not hear your discussion with your "cousin" earlier today, d'accord?"

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 **A/N: Soooooo pretty soon the rewrite bit will be done, and I'll start getting completely new chapters in.  
I really, really appreciate reviews, so thank you to everyone who's left one, and if you're reading this, please leave a review! Even if it's just to say you enjoyed it, or you didn't, or there was a typo, every one really, really makes my day :)  
Also, Halloween is in a few days, so happy almost spooky time for those that celebrate that!**


	7. Chapter 7: Cito, move forward

**"The die has been thrown."**

Despite everything, Ginny didn't miss her own era. There'd been nothing left to miss by the time she'd gone.

She did miss clearing a path through black hooded robes and scraping the information she needed out of their brains. She wasn't cruel, unlike some of her ranks, the ones who had let cruelty twist them into a hollow image of themselves. She was efficient and she was fast, and she was merciful. She clung to her mercy with everything that she had, because once that was gone she was sure her sanity would follow.

Ron had slipped. He planned out attacks priced in human lives and executed them with no hesitation. Hermione never commented on those attacks, and that alone spoke volumes.

Strange, she thought, how quickly they all changed. Strange what war did to brilliant minds.

She stood in the shower, still surprised that no blood or dirt swirled down the drain as she scrubbed her skin pink and raw, no crusts of someone else's life clinging underneath her nails. She thought of Celeste, her hands bruised and bleeding. What sort of secrets did the girl hide under her crisp French accent and too clear blue eyes? How many students did Riddle already have under his thumb? Or was it Zabini, beating his wife-to-be to a pulp before they'd even made it down the aisle?

The water ran cold. She stepped out.

x

What was bravery? Was it following Theodore blindly into battle, trusting his instincts as the commandant of their odd, ill advised two man campaign against young Voldemort? Or was it getting herself thrown into Azkaban for cutting the cancer out of Hogwarts, consequences be damned?

She looked over at the cancer in question. She could kill him, Ginny mused. It would take less than a second to lunge across the table and lodge the carving knife under his neck. With the advantage of surprise, she'd have an extra few seconds to rip it through at least one of his main arteries, disrupting the blood flow to his brain. He would barely even register the pain, it would all happen so quickly. A kind death, really. By the time someone dragged her off of him, he'd have lost enough blood that he would probably be past saving.

Probably.

The thought stilled her hand as she eyed Riddle speculatively.

As if he could feel her murderous intentions, the Slytherin prefect looked up from his conversation with the pretty brunette seated at his left. His eyes moved swiftly, almost lazily, from the knife in her hand hovering over the serving plate to the appraising way she looked at him. For a brief moment, neither Riddle nor Ginny breathed or blinked, staring at each other with a silent understanding, both sizing the other up as they acknowledged the very real and open threat the other presented. Then the moment was broken as the brunette girl tugged on his sleeve, whining. He turned back to his dinner companion, all charming sociopath again, and Ginny, almost regretfully, cut the leg from the roast duck and served it to Theodore.

Theodore, however, had apparently decided to enact phase one of their plan right there at dinner, patience be damned, by interrupting Malfoy's annoying blood supremacist rant.

"I wouldn't be spouting those kinds of ideals, if I were you." Theodore stated calmly. "Clem, pass the potatoes, please."

Clemence froze mid-reach as Abraxas' hand shot out and gripped her forearm.

"And why would that be, Prewett?" Malfoy said, trying and failing to contain a sneer. He didn't release Clemence's arm. "Are you a mudblood lover like our dear Headmaster?"

Ginny felt, rather than heard, the conversation around them drop abruptly as the buzzing at the table stopped and was replaced with a thick silence that made her fingers twitch. Bodies turned minutely, feet were kicked and heads nudged towards them. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see that Riddle's head had snapped up to observe Theo.

Theodore, Ginny abruptly remembered, was born with the kind of riches and pedigree that made the Malfoys look like upstarts. She watched him calmly lace his fingers together in front of him, his eyes never leaving Malfoy's. There was no tension in his body as he cocked his head to the side, and replied:

"You cannot possibly think that Grindelward is going to win the war." Here he took a drink, giving Malfoy a second to process his words. "Once this war is over, do you _really_ think that even a _hint_ of affiliation with Grindelwald will be tolerated? That _any_ discrimination towards mudbloods will be tolerated?"

It was impressive, the way he said mudblood with just the barest shadow of a negative, downwards inflection, making it clear that they were so far beneath him it was a miracle he was even bothering to name them. Theodore sighed, a controlled, slightly exasperated sigh that said he was so far removed from the lowly ranks of the common people that he couldn't believe he was even having this conversation.

"I have plans, Malfoy." He wasn't patronizing, but he looked at Malfoy in a way that suggested that the Malfoy heir was lacking- like he was disappointed but not surprised that a nouveau riche like Abraxas couldn't wrap his head around simple politics. "Plans that don't involve me alienating my family from the ministry so early on."

The boys held eye contact for what felt like an eternity. Abraxas searched Theodore's face and Theodore stared back, unmoveable. Malfoy removed his hand from Clemence's arm, nodding.

She handed Theo the potatoes.

And around them, the Slytherin students looked at the Prewett cousins, the girl who had bested Tom Riddle in a duel and the unassuming boy who was already slipping his way into Ministry pockets, they looked at them-

and the tide changed.

When Ginny chanced a look at Riddle and saw his eyes burning, she knew retribution would be swift.

So it really wasn't that much of a surprise when Tom Riddle strode into Whitehorn's office just a minute after she'd accepted to join the anti-Grindelward spy brigade and announced:

"You know Professor, after discussing it with Ginevra, I think I will join up after all."

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 **A/N: Heeeeey so it's been forever. Ehhhhhh so what the flippidy doo da happened, where have I been? Well peeps, my life sort of decided to shit itself and I had multiple people I really care about pass away (one of them incredibly suddenly) with not that much time between their deaths, so I'm pretty messed tbh. So since my mental health has taken a rather alarming nosedive I've been pretty MIA from, well pretty much everything. However, that being said, I'm in therapy and I'm trying to get back on track with things (and that includes writing, yay!)**

 **That being said, a big big big thank you to everyone who reviewed, you seriously are all amazing. Thanks to** j **olllly , I really appreciate your constructive review! I'm trying my best not to let this story fall into any tropes- not the easiest thing with a TR/GW pairing but hey, what's fanfic for?**

 **Anyways, again a big thank you, hope this chapter lives up to all of your expectations, xox.**

 **(PS- Do me a favor and hug your friends and family today. That shit is so important.)**


	8. Chapter 8: Aufero, remove (steal)

**If you wish for peace, prepare for war.**

"Stop groaning." Theo hissed. "I'm trying to sleep."

She groaned again in response. "I'm in pain, Theo. That woman is insane."

"Then be in pain _quietly_! You're the one who agreed to this!"

Well, she couldn't argue that one. A little over a week ago, when Celeste had wordlessly stood above Ginny as she lay in bed, blonde hair hanging around her like a poor imitation of a halo, Ginny had thought the girl had decided to just cut to the chase and murder her right then and there. Instead, Celeste had invited- well, almost ordered- Ginny to come jogging with her around the Quidditch pitch at the crack of dawn. In the spirit of finding out more about the French sisters, and since Ginny usually didn't sleep much anyways, she'd accepted.

Ginny considered herself fit. Once upon a time, when she'd entertained the thought of making a career out of Quidditch, she'd held a strict morning regiment of flying exercises. When the war came, there was spent so much time running and fighting that everyone was in somewhat decent shape.

This, however, was something else. Celeste ran and ran and ran like someone was chasing her, for hours. Sometimes she'd slow down and jog a part of the way with Ginny, before getting antsy and bolting forward again. If she ever had the energy to count the distance (she didn't), Ginny was pretty sure they were running small marathons every morning.

A part of her suspected that Celeste had been ordered to keep an eye on her. It was just like Riddle to slither his spies around her at the most inconvenient hours. Another wondered if it wasn't an odd sort of silent camaraderie that came from them having mutually destructive information about each other.

Regardless, Ginny ran with Celeste every morning, even though Professor Beery had her spend most of her evenings in the Greenhouse tending to the Madrakes as punishment for forgetting to harvest her Fluxweed plant during the full moon.

It meant that she was always sore, and always exhausted.

Theodore was exhausted too, though mostly due to his nightmares. They slipped away at lunch every few days to nap and scheme together in the Room of Requirement. It was hardly enough though, and the sleep deprivation was catching up on both of them. Especially Theodore, who spent his days smooth-talking his way around Riddle's cohorts, planting seeds of doubt through every conversation.

They were both increasingly jittery and were just a hair's breadth away from making a mistake that would ruin them. Ginny in particular was finding it difficult to maintain a facade of normalcy with Riddle prowling around. She'd had already received two detentions for cursing a student who'd startled her.

Thank Merlin she was in a house that respected aggressivity.

"We have to be up soon anyway, we've got Defense in twenty."

It was Theodore now who groaned, rolling his face into the pillow.

"I can't, I'm either going to fall asleep in class or I'm going to Avada myself when I have to listen to Zabini talk about his fiance for another hour."

"Funny, and here I thought Abraxas was keeping you distracted."

Theo turned over to glare at her. "Hilarious."

"I have to say, he's a lot better looking than Malfoy junior, even though the whole thing is a little too close to incestuous for my tastes-"

"Don't get to comfortable up there in your glass house, Weasley." He scowled.

Ginny laughed and reached over and ran her fingers through his silky hair. Theodore sighed. Really, he should sleep. His pale skin had a strange tinge to it, like milk gone bad. She'd tell Whitehorn that Theo wasn't feeling well.

"Sleep, Theo." She murmured, pressing a kiss to his temple. "I'll cover for you."

He swatted her away irritably. "As if, woman. Someone needs to woo the great and noble vaults of Malfoy to our great and noble cause."

She made an affronted noise and slapped his hand back down. Sometimes, Merlin knows how, she forgot about Theodore's substantial ego. The boy liked to pretend he'd done all those missions alone, as if Ginny hadn't been the one to save his ass on more than one occasion.

"Bulgaria." Theo deadpanned, following her train of thought.

Ginny wrinkled her nose. Shit. That had been a bad one, with Theodore apparating them out of the burning ministry with just seconds to spare.

Still, she thought stubbornly, they'd only had those seconds because Ginny had single-handedly fought off two Death Eaters as Theodore sprinted around, disabling the wards. And that wasn't the only time Ginny had nearly lost appendages to buy Theo some time to do whatever it was they were there to do...

"Greenwich." She countered triumphantly.

He narrowed his eyes and looked away pointedly. She smirked.

"Anyways," He drawled, annoyed, "You've got to deal with Riddle tonight, I think that's more than enough work for one human being to handle."

Eurgh, she had forgotten about that.

Ever since joining Whitehorn's little group, she had the pleasure of meeting with Riddle twice a week on top of regular class hours. Because fate seemed to personally have it in for her, Whitehorn had partnered her and Riddle together while allowing Theo to work alone, his reasoning being that they would infiltrate Germany under the guise of being young lovers looking to prove themselves to Grindelwald.

("I think Theodore would be better suited to this role than I, professor." She had suggested in cheerful horror, smiling rather maniacally as the word _lovers_ sank in deep, like a large boot grinding into her skull.

"I think not." Theodore replied caustically.)

She shook the thoughts away.

"I can manage it."

It was the truth. For the most part, she ignored Riddle unless absolutely necessary, and apparently being immortal at the ripe old age of seventeen gave Tom Riddle the patience of a saint to enact whatever plans he had in mind for her. (Because, no matter what his polite exterior showed, she wouldn't be surprised if he'd refined a special Crucio curse to rip apart her mind until he discovered the answers he was looking for. He was just… waiting.)

Theo heaved himself up from the bed with a dramatic moan.

"Regardless, Ginevra, Abraxas is both gay and engaged, therefore I have no idea how you think you could possibly maneuver yourself around him-"

* * *

"So you see, if you strengthen your defenses here and here-" She circled two spots on the shoddily drawn quidditch pitch they were both bent over, "Then your chasers will be free to make a beeline for the hoops here." She punctuated her sentence with a sharp scratch of the quill across the pitch.

Abraxas rubbed at his jaw, utterly enthralled and totally ignoring the lesson going on in front of them.

"If we have this brilliant of a strategy every game, we'll win the cup for sure!" He was almost panting with excitement. Abruptly, he turned and grasped her shoulders.

"Prewett." He intoned solemnly.

"Malfoy?"

"I'm drafting you. From now on, you are part of the Slytherin Quidditch team."

Ginny's eyes flickered back and forth wildly before remembering Theodore was out cold in the Room of Requirement. No one was coming to her rescue.

"Um. Malfoy. Abraxas. You haven't even seen me fly-"

And Merlin, did Ginny love flying, she just didn't have any time for it.

He waved her concerns away. "We already have a full roster. I'm drafting you as our strategist. We'll meet on Sundays at dawn, you can watch our practices and we'll group after to discuss the holes in our strategy."

Ginny opened her mouth to protest, but she felt herself deflate before she could even form an argument.

"Sure, Malfoy. I'll be there."

"Of course you will. I'll have you and Theodore over for Yule as well, after Clem and I return from France. We're visiting Baptiste, of course,"

Malfoy chattered on excitedly while Ginny "hmm'd" in all the right places. Inside her mind, her thoughts were churning. Baptiste, France, D'Auvignon- something was tugging at a corner of her memory, begging her to unravel it.

 _The man was enormous, almost as wide as he was tall. He was entertaining a circle of guests in the far left corner of the opulent ballroom. Ginny grimaced at her bad luck. She needed to get him drunk and alone, preferably before the night was over so she could grab Theo and start the long journey home._

 _She turned to survey the room and snatched a champagne flute off a floating tray. Politicians, social climbers and journalists flitted about the room, smiling and joking with each other, posing gamely for photos. A woman was flirting with a man a few feet away from her, batting her eyelashes coyly. Diamonds glittered on her hand, catching the light every time she moved._

 _Ginny thought of the houses stuffed with refugees back home, the proud and the poor all stuffed together under one roof, all running from the same monsters._

 _She hated these people._

 _These naive, protected people who'd not lifted a finger during Voldemort's rise and didn't lift a finger now. These people who held fundraisers for refugees but didn't allow them in their own borders. These people that declared their war an internal affair yet were to thick to realize that someone in their government had a financial interest in the war, that someone had been steadily financing the Death Eaters for the better part of the year._

 _Who though? She was here to find out._

 _Something- someone- across the room caught her eye. He was tall, dark, wavy hair spilling past his ears-_

 _Harry..._

 _No. As he came closer, his dark, strong features came into the light. He wasn't from here, she could tell by the way he carried himself among the guests. An outsider, like her._

 _She studied him as he made his way through the throngs of socialites, flirting and complimenting all the right people. He was roguishly handsome, carrying himself with a confident swagger. As he came closer, she caught something in the air around him, a sort of thick and cloying smell that set Ginny's teeth on edge. She was far too familiar with that scent, having encountered it more times than she was willing to count._

 _The man was a necromancer._

 _Ginny composed herself and turned her attention away from the wizard. He wasn't why she was here tonight. She turned her attention back to her target, searching out the large man. He was still entertaining his circle of guests, loudly voicing his opinion on some immigration policy or another- she couldn't quite make out the details, her french wasn't that good- but from volume alone, she knew he would be drunk enough for her to act soon._

" _He won't be interested in you." A heavily accented voice murmured into her ear. Ginny whipped around, barely controlling the urge to scream, coming face to face with the wizard she had noticed earlier. He was terribly close, his breath fanning on her face._

" _Can I help you?" She asked sarcastically, eyeing him. He wasn't threatening, at least not yet- his arms were open, relaxed. Ginny's fingers switched over her wand reflexively._

" _English." He noted, ignoring her defensive stance. His dark eyes flicked downwards to hers, holding them for a moment. "I'm truly sorry about your situation."_

 _And he did sound sincerely sorry, putting more genuine emotion into one phrase than any of the attendees here had put into their entire speeches. Ginny still didn't move her hand away from her wand._

" _As am I." She said dryly. "And while I appreciate the sentiment, your going to find yourself in a very painful situation if you don't explain your rather sudden apparition immediately."_

" _So tense, Miss…?"_

 _She didn't have time for these games. She whipped out her wand and dug it firmly into his ribs. "Weasley." Ginny all but hissed._

 _He held up his hands in surrender, smiling. "Charmed, Miss Weasley, please call me Syphax. I have my own business here, for my own country." Ginny raised a dubious eyebrow._

" _We do not have a quarrel with the English, only the French." His lip twitched as he continued. "For now. Regardless, I believe we can be of some use to each other tonight, and perhaps in the future. The man you are hoping to pry information out of will not be easily swayed by a little girl like yourself. You don't look a day above eighteen."_

" _Sixteen." She corrected. "Not that it matters. No other man has refused me before." She shot back somewhat arrogantly._

 _He hummed in disapproval. "You have been- ah, how to say...lucky to find men with no morals." He looked around the ballroom briefly in disgust before meeting her gaze again, his demeanor softening somewhat. "Your country has no shame, sending its children to war."_

 _Her mind unwittingly flashed to Harry- Harry at all of seventeen, standing in front of an army. She shook her head to clear her thoughts and snapped her attention back to Syphax._

" _We don't have the luxury of shame. You had a proposal for me?"_

 _He considered her for a moment before moving swiftly to her side, taking her arm in his and leading her around the room. To any outsider, they would look like a couple flirting their way around the rest of the guests. Ginny followed his lead, leaning into him._

" _will not fall for the charms of a girl-child. He may look soft and pliable on the outside, when really he is anything but. He is, however, very amenable to fear."_

 _Well, he certainly had her attention now. She made a gesture indicating for him to go on._

" _However, I am here to collect 's grandson. We find ourselves with a need for… collateral."_

 _Here he stopped them, placing himself in front of Ginny and taking the champagne flute from her hands._

" _To your right, the boy with the blonde hair." He took a sip from her glass._

 _He was indeed a boy, Ginny noted, taking stock of Syphax's target. Not much older than her, if she had to hazard a guess, and with a paleness that reminded her somewhat of Draco._

" _Alright, so cut to the chase. You're offering to deal with Vachon, and I… what? Kidnap this boy so you can murder him?"_

 _Syphax chuckled darkly. "You English are so vulgar. We aren't planning to kill him, Miss Weasley. His grandfather- well, his whole family really, they're lawmakers. And their new laws are spilling into our borders. We just need to have a chat with to inform him how unacceptable this is. I'm sure he'll be more than willing to see his errors once we sit down with him. His grandson is merely...insurance."_

" _I would rather not make a mess tonight, and the boy has been eyeing you for quite some time now. You get him out of here, and meanwhile, I can get to reveal whatever it is you're looking for. We meet at midnight to trade the boy for the information. Do we have a deal?"_

 _Ginny pursed her lips. On one hand, Syphax could fail to deliver. But she was more than confident that she wouldn't, and if it came to a fight she was confident that she could withhold the youngest Baptiste from him._

 _She eyed the boy again. He laughed uproariously at something, spilling wine on his robes. Ginny felt her stomach recoil._

 _These people were responsible for writing the laws that stripped the United Kingdom of all its international portkeys to France, the laws that closed their Floo Networks and Embassy to the pleas of the United Kingdom._

 _She turned to Syphax. "We do. Shall we shake on it?"_

* * *

"Are you listening?"

She was thrust back to the present by the annoying sound of Malfoy's impatient voice. She made a vague noise of inquiry, completely lost to the conversation. Abraxas sighed dramatically.

"I want you and Theodore to come to Malfoy Manor for Yule. I've invited Riddle and Elias as well, and Clem and Celeste will be there too…"

Ginny tuned him out, noting wryly that he hadn't really invited her, more ordered her to arrive on his doorstep. Gods above give her patience, it looked like she was going to be spending her entire holiday with the devil incarnate and his merry band of misfits.

There was one thing Theodore would be pleased about though- the D'Auvignon girls were linked to Baptiste, somehow. And that meant they were more important than she had originally thought.

It was time for Ginny to make use of her morning jogging sessions.

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 **Thank you so much to everyone who reviewed the last chapter, I cannot put into words how lovely it was to receive your kind words. Hope this one lives up to your expectations, I did make it longer as a small apology for the last one being so short. As always, reviews are always appreciated!**

 **(Tom will be present in the next chapters!)**


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